Once Upon A Time
by Ani-maniac494
Summary: Mary said once, “He’s sweet. Kind. Even after the war, after everything...he still believes in happily ever after.” But for John Winchester, that all changed.


Title: Once Upon A Time

Summary: Mary said once, "He's sweet. Kind. Even after the war, after everything…he still believes in happily ever after." But for John Winchester, that all changed.

Spoilers: Takes place pre-series, but there are mentions of events from "The Pilot," "Home," and references to "In The Beginning."

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, and if Dean is missing…that's just a coincidence. Honest.

A/N: This is a story I was inspired with after "In The Beginning," aired. I loved how they portrayed a younger John, before he become a hunter, and I couldn't resist trying to figure out what really changed in gentle man Mary knew.

A/N2: I was without my laptop for three weeks when it had to be sent in for repairs, but praise the Lord, none of my files (including this one :) ) were lost. I was able to post it today because of God's goodness, and as always, I give Him all the credit.

I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think!

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**Once Upon a Time**

When John was a little boy, his mom would sit by his bed every night, and read stories to him about heroes and villains, monsters and knights, princes and princesses. In the stories, the heroes always won, the knight always killed the monster, the prince always married the princess, and they always lived happily ever after.

John knew they were just stories, knew real life wasn't always like that…but somehow, as he'd gotten older, he'd still learned to believe in happy endings. Life wasn't always easy, things didn't always go the way you planned, but eventually…it would work out. It would be alright.

He'd thought about that as he'd crawled through the jungles of Viet Nam, surrounded by gunfire, blood, and death. He'd seen things there, done things that would haunt him as long as he lived. He'd had to watch as innocent people died - as friends died - as guilty men survived, and children were forced to fight.

The war had left scars on him, both inside and out, but…he'd lived through it. He'd survived with his heart and soul battered but intact, and when he'd come home, Mary had been waiting for him.

The prince had fought his battle, and then he'd met his princess.

And even after that night…the night he only remembered in confused and jumbled flashes mixed with Mary's tears, they'd still gotten their happily ever after. Mary had lost her parents, but they still had each other, and as long as they were together, John knew they could face anything.

Then he'd watched his happily ever after go up in flames.

He'd watched fire consume his home, his world, his life…and Mary…Mary in the center of it all, on the ceiling, face frozen in horror, her scream still echoing in his ears.

A fireman had come to talk to him after the boys had been pried from his arms by the paramedics, soot and smoke still lingering around him, confirming what John already knew.

She was gone.

Those three words played over and over again in his mind, each one searing his heart, scorching his soul, mingling with the fireman's solemn explanations and apologies.

…_fire…_

She was gone.

…_spread too quickly…_

She was gone.

…_too late…_

She was gone.

…_nothing we could do…_

She was gone.

…_I'm sorry…_

She was gone.

And something in John smoldered and burned and turned to ash.

The next weeks passed in a haze, a blur of grief, condolences, and tears.

The silence was the worst though.

It was too much of a reminder of what they'd lost because Mary had never been silent, she'd been laughing and loving and alive. And Dean…the little boy he'd known was gone too, and John didn't know how to get him back. He'd tried coaxing and ordering and begging, but nothing worked. Dean just watched him with large, sad, dull eyes, pleading for something John couldn't give him.

Mary was gone, and all he had left were questions no one could answer.

The police, with their useless platitudes and empty excuses, had gotten nowhere. A _terrible accident_, they'd called it, a _tragic loss_, they'd said.

It wasn't an accident, and Mary hadn't been lost.

Some_thing_ had killed her. Some_thing_ had taken her from them.

But no one believed him.

The doctors had looked at Dean and started talking about therapy and counseling, psychologists and medication.

Dean didn't need any of that. He needed his mother. He needed to know that this thing wouldn't come back and take more of his family.

But no one listened.

Mike and Kate had tried to tell him that he was losing it, that he was paranoid, delusional, unstable. That he was neglecting his boys. That he needed help.

They were wrong. He didn't need help, he needed to find the thing that had killed Mary. The research he'd done, the guns he'd bought, the nights he'd spent keeping watch…

He was trying to protect his boys.

But no one understood.

They were blind, blind just like he had been. That blindness had cost him his wife. It wasn't gonna to cost him his sons too. He knew the truth now. He knew what was really out there, in the dark. And he would fight it. He would make it pay for what it had taken from his family.

One phone call to Social Services later, one _betrayal_ later, and John had packed the Impala with the few possessions they had left. He'd scrambled from Lawrence, driving, just driving, trying to get away from the blind people who'd called themselves his friends, the people who wanted to take his boys away from him.

Life had been a haze of traveling and training and hunting since then, and days had blurred into weeks, and weeks into months. They'd developed a routine, a chain of command really, that John had found easy to slip back into. This was war, after all. A war unlike any he'd ever fought, but war just the same.

John closed his journal and leaned back in the rickety chair he'd claimed. It creaked every time he moved, and he half expected the thing to give under his weight, but he didn't have much choice in the matter. The motel room he and the boys had shared for the last three days was only so big, and the beds were already spoken for. His now-ever-growing collection of weapons was strewn across the one closest to the door, waiting to be cleaned, reassembled, and put away, and Sammy was fast-asleep in the other bed, a well-worn stuffed animal tucked under his arm. Dean had managed to coax him into taking a nap a few hours before. How, John wasn't sure, but it had given him the peace and quiet he needed to research his next hunt.

Dean, himself, was sitting on the ragged motel carpet next to Sammy's bed, a battered picture-book resting in his lap. "A Book Of Fairy Tales," the title on the first page read.

Quickly brushing that thought aside, John stood and walked over to his duffle bag, automatically sorting through its contents, making sure that everything was where it should be. They were supposed to check out soon, and he couldn't afford to leave anything behind.

"Dean, make sure Sammy's stuff is packed. We've gotta be outta here in a couple hours."

Dean started to get up, but hesitated, his eyes fixed longingly on the book he still held.

"You can finish looking at it later, okay?" John added.

Dean still seemed a little disappointed, but he nodded. "Okay," he said softly. He paused. "Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do they live happily ever after?"

John stopped what he was doing and stared down at the book in Dean's hand, trying to figure out which fairy tale his son was talking about, but the pictures in front of him didn't seem to mean anything. All he could see in the wrinkled pages was their house in Lawrence, Mary's smile, and the safety they'd taken for granted. Then he let his eyes sweep the cheap motel room, looking at the crumpled fast-food wrappers sitting on the dresser, the newspaper clippings littering the walls, and the arsenal scattered over the bed.

"I don't know, Dean," John answered finally.

But that wasn't true. He already knew how the story would end.

He just didn't believe in happily ever after anymore.

**Fin**

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A/N: This is vaguely connected to my other "In the Beginning," fics, "The Clothes Make The Man," and "Full Circle," which are also John POVs. If you're interested, I hope you'll check them out. :)

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

Take care and God bless!

Ani-maniac494 :)


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